It had been Regina’s dream to become an FBI Profiler since she was a young child and had actually spent some time with one. She was fascinated by the larger-than-life man who seemed to see all and know even more. She decided right then and there that she would become that person someday.
Obviously as a child, the reality of what a profiler did escaped her young mind. But as she aged, her fascination only grew. She did everything she possibly could to make her exactly the right person for the position. She took every class that would help in any way. She took extra classes throughout her life just to make sure she got to them all. She read books and magazines, both fiction and non-fiction. She did everything exactly right to be hand-picked for the new class at Quantico.
She was the youngest in her group, but excelled in every training division. She’d made it her life goal to be the best, and she was.
She finished the academy in record time, immediately falling into a profiler position with the best team the FBI had to offer. Finally, she had achieved her life mission. She knew from the very moment that the profiler had taken her father away as a child that she would never be so careless. She would be better than him.
She was one of them now. She knew everything they knew. She knew everything they looked for. She knew everything they’d expect. She was completely invisible as she hid among them in plain sight. She was a master at tracking and finding others – they were encroaching on her territory, and that was unacceptable.
She was the team’s savant wonder-child. She worked hard and solved impossible cases, so she deserved her down time to indulge in her favorite hobby.
She was up to thirty-seven bodies now, but not even a morsel of suspicion.
Maybe I watch a little too much “Criminal Minds”, and maybe I ready too many serial killer books… or maybe I’m just researching thoroughly, like any good writer should do. I was sitting in a conference session on women serial killers by a former FBI agent, and my mind started running. If I paid enough attention to what female killers did, what would stop me from doing it anyway, but in a way that would point towards a man instead? And it all went down from there – and then there was this flash.
